


Unsettled

by Kings_Stew



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Belly Rubs, Caring Ignis Scientia, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Food Poisoning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Promnis - Freeform, Sick Prompto Argentum, Sickfic, Sleepy Cuddles, Stomach Ache, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kings_Stew/pseuds/Kings_Stew
Summary: “Note to self – never eat a gas station burrito again,”Prompto thought miserably as the Reglia flew down the highway toward Cape Caem.“You will regret everything.”In which Prompto's lunch isn't sitting well, Gladio is helpful, Noctis blames beans, and Ignis is a caring boyfriend who is not about to let his Chocobo suffer alone.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 4
Kudos: 86





	Unsettled

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally going to be a 100-word drabble, and then I got caught up in sick!Prompto and Promnis and it just kind of spiraled into a fluffy sickfic by the end. Sorry-not-sorry. ;)

_“Note to self – never eat a gas station burrito again_ ,” Prompto thought miserably, fighting back waves of nausea as the Reglia flew down the highway toward Cape Caem. “ _You will regret everything._ ”

A cramp tore through his middle and he resisted the urge to curl up tighter in his seat as he stared out of the passenger window and hopelessly willed his churning tummy to settle. It was raining, so the top was up on the car, and he thanked the Six for small mercies because the sound of raindrops pattering onto the roof was at least more soothing than a seventy-mile-per-hour wind in his face, and still loud enough to drown out the angry whines his belly was making (he hoped).

It had seemed like a perfectly fine choice at the time. After successfully scaling the Rock of Ravatogh and obtaining the Mace of the Fierce from the tomb at the summit, the royal retinue was on their way back to Cape Caem to check on some upgraded weapons Cid had promised them he’d work on. It would take nearly six hours to reach the hideout and after multiple nights of sleeping out in the boiling heat, which never really abated whether it was day or night, even Ignis was too exhausted to want to do anything but get to Caem as quickly as possible. So instead of taking the time to prepare a full meal for lunch, they’d stopped at the Veritas Mart in Ravatogh before they hit the road and just picked whatever grab-and-go items looked the most appealing.

Gladio had chosen a protein shake and some kind of locally-sourced zu jerky, while Noctis grabbed a sandwich stuffed to the brim with Gighee ham, processed cheese slices, and lettuce (which was later picked off and dropped out the back window while Ignis wasn’t watching). Ignis, ever the responsible one, had selected some kind of chickatrice salad wrap in a spinach tortilla, along with a twelve-pack of Ebony to replenish his supply.

Prompto had been about to go for the salad wrap too, when he had spotted a roller grill on a shelf beside the checkout counter. It wasn’t anything special, just standard service station fare like hot dogs and slightly overcooked chickatrice tenders, but the meat-and-bean burritos actually looked fresh and smelled really good, so he’d made up his mind and snagged one of those, extra calories be damned. Noctis rejected his offer of a bite once they got in the car, because _beans_ , so Prompto had happily scarfed it down all on his own. Now, though, he was much less happy about that decision, although he _was_ glad that Noct wasn’t suffering with him too; as if the guy needed any more reason to blame beans for all of the world’s problems.

He had felt fine for the first couple of hours. A little bit of heartburn, maybe, but that was nothing unusual. He’d nabbed Noct’s soda and taken a few sips, and it seemed to solve the problem just fine. Then around the halfway mark came the first twinges of nausea, which he attributed to car sickness until the clamminess and stomach cramps joined the party, and he realized with dread that he was probably about to be in for a really bad time.

So far he’d managed to hold it together, if only by watching the scenery pass by so he could distract himself until they reached their destination, but he wasn’t sure how long that was going to last…

“How much longer until we get there, Specs? I kinda need to pee again.” Noctis asked from the backseat, too engrossed in one of his mobile apps to raise his head and look for himself.

Ignis sighed and took a sip of Ebony from the half-empty can in the cup holder before answering. “We’re nearly there, Noct. Another five minutes at most. Surely you can hold it that long.”

Prompto squinted through the rain pattering against the windshield, and to his immense relief he could just barely make out the lighthouse at Cape Caem off in the distance. All he had to do now was play it cool until they got there. Then he could go to their room, crawl into bed (preferably the one closest to the bathroom door) and sleep off his misery in peace. He just had to hold it together long enough to get there and –

“ _Hic-UuuUUurrrp!_ ”

“ _Oh, gods, oh no,_ ” he thought as his rebellious stomach suddenly lurched. Okay, nope, change of plans, he was apparently gonna puke _now_. Like, _right now_. Not knowing what else to do, he covered his mouth with his hand.

“Whoa!” Noctis said, having been so startled by the sudden noise at first that he almost dropped his phone. “Nice, Prom!”

“Yeah, good one!” Gladio cheered from the back, and if Prompto hadn’t been trying so hard not to hurl all over his own shoes right then he would have happily given the big guy a high-five.

“Honestly, you two,” Ignis huffed in exasperation. “Have you no manners at all? And Prompto, we are in an enclosed space. Surely you could have been more discreet, or at least opened the… Prompto?” He stopped short as he finally seemed to notice the gunner’s condition. “Are you quite alright?”

“Iggy,” Prompto choked out from behind his hand, his mouth starting to water as he swallowed again and again in an instinctive last-ditch effort to keep his lunch where it belonged. “M’gonna be sick…”

Ignis’s eyes widened, and he immediately stretched his right hand backward toward Gladio and Noctis. “Gladio, I need a plastic sack, Noct’s sandwich container from earlier, anything,” he commanded. Prompto heard a rustling behind his head, and then Ignis was thrusting one of the plastic bags from the Vertias Mart into his hands. “I’m afraid there’s no shoulder on this road and it isn’t safe to stop the car with visibility this poor, so this will have to do for now. I’m sorry, love.”

“Nah, I g… get it. Thanks,” Prompto replied hurriedly, barely suppressing a gag. A moment later his stomach lurched again and he curled forward and burped, tasting sour bile on his breath and wishing he could just get this over with. He dry heaved and coughed, spitting into the bag, and winced as his stomach cramped painfully and a cold sweat began to bead on his forehead. He hated throwing up, absolutely despised it, and to have to do it in the front seat of the King of Lucis’s car with his best friends and boyfriend watching? Yeah, this definitely sucked.

He didn’t get long to dwell on his fears, though. A few seconds later he felt what seemed like his entire torso contract all at once and he ducked his head into the bag and _spewed_ , vomiting violently as his ill-begotten meal decided it no longer wished to stay put and came back to say _‘Fuck you, Prompto,’_ in such spectacular fashion that even Ignis winced at the sound.

“It was definitely the beans,” Noctis whispered conspiratorially.

“Not – _hurk!_ – helping,” Prompto ground out. “Urgh, gods, _hu-UUUuuurk!_ ” he moaned, wishing he could wrap his arms around his spasming belly. _Six,_ it hurt so _much_! Wasn’t getting bad food out of his stomach supposed to be making him feel better instead of worse? He bit back a sob and closed his eyes, knowing it would only make him sicker if he had to see his stomach contents coming back up, and felt a warm, slender hand settle on his back as he leaned over and retched again. _Ignis._

“Easy,” Gladio’s deep baritone rumbled from behind him as his hands came around the sides of Prompto’s head and pulled back the longest pieces of his hair. “Just breathe, you’ll be done in a minute.” The Shield’s touch was unusually gentle, and Ignis’s hand was firm and grounding as he rubbed up and down Prompto’s spine. In response to their careful ministrations, the gunner felt his nearly hyperventilating breaths begin to slow.

It took another couple of minutes and a round of agonizing dry-heaves before he finally felt confident enough to lift his head again. He gratefully accepted a tissue from Ignis, not questioning where he had found it, and made sure to wipe his mouth and blow his nose before tossing it into the bag and tying the whole nasty thing off to be thrown out as soon as he got out of the car. To add insult to injury, that turned out to be about thirty seconds later - because _of course_ Prompto’s traitorous body couldn’t have waited another few minutes for them to make landfall before it threw in the towel. Just his luck.

Ignis coasted smoothly into the parking spot at the base of the hill and cut the engine before addressing the rest of the group. “Alright, let’s make our way up to the house and get settled. Noct, please put your jacket on first, you don’t need to catch a chill getting drenched in this rain.” He noticeably didn’t tell Gladio to put a shirt on, probably realizing it was a lost cause before he ever even tried. They all got out and rounded the car, Ignis handing Noctis and Gladio their duffels and sending them on their way toward the hideout. “Prompto, are you well enough to carry your things, or shall I bring them inside for you?”

“Huh?” Prompto asked, startled by the question. “Oh, no, I’m good. Thanks though, Iggs.”

The advisor frowned, skeptical. “Alright, if you’re sure. Here,” he reached out his gloved hand, gesturing to the plastic bag still clutched in Prompto’s grip. “Give that to me, and I’ll dispose of it.”

“What? No way, Iggy! It’s gross, I’ll handle it myself.”

Ignis sighed, nearly rolling his eyes before he caught himself. “You do realize this is far from the first time I have seen one of you lot through an illness? ‘Gross’ hardly registers as part of my vocabulary anymore. Stop fretting and go get changed into some dry clothes so you can lie down. Quickly, now; I’ll be up shortly.”

Prompto reluctantly did as he was told, shame burning in his cheeks in spite of Ignis’s reassurances. He trudged his way up the muddy path to the hideout, one hand holding his duffel bag over his shoulder while the other clutched his aching stomach in a futile attempt to chase the pain away.

This definitely wasn’t how he’d imagined today going.

He said a quick hello to Iris and Talcott on the way in but didn’t stop to chat like he normally would; they didn’t question him about it, so he figured Noctis and Gladio had already told them what happened. Resigned to his fate, he clomped up the stairs on leaden feet, barely able to summon enough energy to strip out of his muddy clothes and dump them into a pile by the foot of his bed before struggling into a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt that he used as pajamas.

Exhausted and absolutely _done_ with this day, he slithered underneath the duvet and relaxed into the mattress as much as he could. A shiver ran through him and he pulled the covers over his head, unable to tell if it was from his sodden hair or the chills he always seemed to get whenever he was sick to his stomach. His belly gurgled loudly and he whimpered and curled up with his arms around his middle, begging it to forgive him for his burrito-related transgressions so he could just feel better already. To his disappointment, it ignored him.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been lying there, trying to fall asleep while being mercilessly tormented by his enraged insides, when the door opened and he heard boots thumping their way across the wooden floor toward him.

“Prompto?” Ignis’s voice called softly from the foot of his bed. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah ‘m awake,” he mumbled, blinking against the dim light when Ignis pulled the blanket off of his face.

The advisor removed his gloves and laid his palm against Prompto’s forehead before moving it down to cup his cheek, thumb gently stroking his temple. “How are you feeling, darling?”

“Nnnguuuuuhhhh…”

“I’m afraid I’ll need you to be a little more specific,” Ignis said with a slight smirk. “You don’t seem to have a fever, but is anything else troubling you besides your stomach?”

“Just a headache, but I’m pretty sure that’s from puking so hard. I am _so_ sorry about that, by the way.”

Ignis blinked, and then _tsk_ ’d and gently pushed Prompto’s damp hair out of his face. “Whatever for?”

Prompto snorted derisively. “Oh, y’know, just for hurling in the King’s car while you guys were trapped in there with me and almost ruining the upholstery, because apparently I’m incapable of doing something as simple as choosing my own food for lunch without causing trouble.”

Ignis’s gaze turned steely, and his hand stilled and then pulled away from where it had been absently scratching Prompto’s scalp. He whined at the loss of contact.

“Prompto.” The advisor’s voice was flat, stern, and Prompto tensed as he felt a Scientia-Style Lecture coming on. He had thought an apology would be enough, but maybe not? “We have discussed this before. I know you are ill, and I’m willing to chalk part of what you just said up to that, but regardless, I will _not_ hear you speak of yourself that way. You are in no way incapable, and you know it as well as I.”

Prompto blushed, not quite sure how to respond. “I know, Iggy. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He sighed, his next words coming out in a near-whisper. “Iggy? I don’t feel good.”

Ignis’s expression softened immediately, and he hummed sadly as he bent down and placed a soft kiss on Prompto’s sweaty forehead. “I know, dearest. I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do to help until your body clears itself of whatever upset it so, but I may have a way to make it more pleasant for you. Can you turn onto your back for me?”

Prompto did as requested, biting back a groan as he felt the contents of his stomach slosh uncomfortably with the motion. Ignis folded the blankets down, over and over until they were bunched around his hips and his upper body was uncovered. With deft fingers, he began to pull up the hem of the T-shirt; Prompto tensed out of habit, still not completely used to showing his body even to Ignis, but the other man whispered “Trust me,” and his voice was so warm and calming that any protests Prompto might have had died on his lips. Within moments his entire abdomen was bared, and before he could ask what Ignis was doing, the bespectacled man placed both hands on Prompto’s belly and began to massage.

To say it felt fantastic was an understatement. Ignis started gently at first, rubbing feather-light circles over his stomach and chest while he gave Prompto time to adjust to the foreign feeling of someone else’s hands on such a closely guarded part of his body. Then, after a few moments, he began to increase the pressure, fingertips roving over the overtaxed muscles and working out the knots of tension that had been forming since the first hint of nausea began. Prompto let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan, melting under his partner’s caring touch. Ignis’s fingers were like magic, tracing curving patterns in warm trails across the gunner’s upset stomach as they sought out and massaged away aches he hadn’t even realized he had yet.

Prompto felt himself growing sleepy, and was tempted to just let himself drift off when his stomach suddenly clenched and growled loudly, a pocket of air rumbling under the surface so angrily he was sure Ignis felt it too. He opened his eyes, unsure for a moment if he was going to vomit again or not, and then Ignis’s hand pressed down a little more firmly in that spot and he burped, _loudly_.

He instantly felt his face going scarlet as he realized what he’d just done. “Oh my gods, Iggy, I’m –”

A finger on his lips cut off whatever apology he was about to make.

“Shh,” Ignis hushed gently, giving Prompto’s belly a little pat before resuming his rubbing. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Do you feel any better now?”

“I… actually, yeah,” Prompto admitted sheepishly.

“Good.” Ignis leaned down and kissed Prompto’s navel, the tickling sensation drawing a snort of surprised laughter out of him before he could stop it. “I’m happy to hear it. Now, then,” he said, straightening up and turning on his heel toward the bedroom door, “I need to go downstairs to begin preparing dinner. I’ll bring up a glass of ginger ale for you to sip on in a moment, but do you think you could manage a bit of Quillhorn soup for supper, or some toast?”

“The soup sounds good. But, um, Iggy?” he asked, more hesitantly than he meant to.

“Yes?” The advisor turned back toward him, brows drawn together in concern. “Is there something else you need first?”

“No, I… I mean, I don’t _need_ … Um, could you – will you stay? With me, I mean? Until I fall asleep?” This was ridiculous; he was a grown man, and Ignis was only going downstairs for a few minutes. It wasn’t like he needed his boyfriend to babysit him while he slept off a stomach ache, he’d gotten through plenty on his own before. But for some reason, this time, he just really wanted Ignis to _stay_.

Ignis didn’t hesitate for a moment before smiling in that gorgeous way of his and replying, “Of course.” He strode over to the other side of the bed, stopping only long enough to remove his boots, fold his jacket, and place his glasses neatly on the bedside table. Then he was sliding into bed beside Prompto, wrapping him up in his arms until they were pressed back-to-front against each other with barely a hair’s-breadth in between them. His hands found their way back to Prompto’s stomach and resumed their soothing rubs, and the gunner released the breath he’d been holding with a sigh, all of the tension in his body melting away almost instantly. It didn’t take long before his eyelids grew heavy again, and in spite of his desire to stay awake and keep enjoying Ignis’s pampering, he could tell it was a fight he was quickly losing.

After the third time he stirred himself awake, stubbornly fighting the pull of sleep, he felt more than heard Ignis chuckle against his back, and then there was hot breath against his ear as the advisor’s velvety voice whispered, “Go to sleep, my love. I’ll be waiting when you wake.”

Far be it from Prompto to refuse a request from the Royal Advisor. Within minutes he had drifted off to sleep, misery long forgotten as Ignis held him safe and warm in his arms and traced patterns of love into his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a headcanon that Ignis would get into a habit of dropping pet names (dearest, love, darling, dear heart, etc.) all over the place around his significant other because he just loves them so much that he can't help himself (especially when he's mother-henning.) ;)
> 
> Also, I was imagining this exchange the entire time, even though I didn't manage to work it in, lol:  
>  **Prompto (overly-dramatic as he enjoys getting doted on):** Iiigggyyyy, I'm dying of burrito poisoning, save meeeee...  
>  **Ignis (worried mother-henning):** My poor little Chocobean...  
>  **Noctis (whining from the other room):** Beeeeeaaaaannnnnsssss...


End file.
